


Welcome to the Neighborhood

by jupiter_james



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel sucks at asking him on a date, Dean sucks at flirting, F/M, Falling In Love, Gift Fic, M/M, Modern AU, Prompt Fill, houses falling apart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 16:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16349945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_james/pseuds/jupiter_james
Summary: After the housing crash, Dean sees the opportunity to build a family and a life with his brother in a foreclosed house in an abandoned, half-finished neighborhood. Buying on the cheap pays off, and over time, their friends and family start to move in nearby, effectively turning the cul-du-sac into an extended family affair. That is, until Dean's dream home is bought by a stranger. A Castiel Novak, who Sam befriends and Dean swears to remain suspicious of. Until he's not.





	Welcome to the Neighborhood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darmys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darmys/gifts).



> This is a gift fic for [Darmysasagiri](http://Darmysasagiri.tumblr.com) who had a great idea for a strangers to neighbors to lovers fic! Thank you! :D

It's sort of an accident that the Winchesters and those they love take over the entire neighborhood. In fact, Dean hadn't been thinking much of the whole area when he'd first moved in. Sam had just passed the bar and was all set up to be super poor for five to ten years while he got settled into his career. Dean had finished trade school and nailed an apprenticeship at Bobby's shop. They had no money, nowhere to go, nowhere to be. So they'd found The Neighborhood. A handful of finished houses alongside some foreclosures and half-finished dwellings. A perfect display of the housing market crash.

The cheapest of them with the least amount of repairs necessary is a finished house that never managed to make it for sale since the developers abandoned the rest of the properties. It's a quiet, safe area, so Sam and Dean had pooled together their meager resources and bought the two story home together.

One shower, which sucks because Sam takes ten hours to style his fucking hair, but there are three bedrooms, a kitchen that suits their needs, and plenty of shared living space.

Also a two car garage, which sells Dean on the spot because Baby ain't living on the street. She's too classy for that.

And for a while he and his little brother have the whole world to themselves. But the cul-du-sac is a little lame on holidays. Sure, they can take over everything when they have the Fourth of July party, fireworks included, because who is there to complain? But when Jessica starts talking about wanting to move up from her apartment, both Sam and Dean point to the new For Sale sign right in front of the duplex across the street. Despite wanting neighbors to liven the area up a little bit, the Winchester brothers have to admit that a friend would be far preferable to a stranger. They have a housewarming party the day she signs the contract and pulls up in the U-Haul.

She swears she can be rude if she needs to be if the riff raff moves in beside her. Dean has no idea why Sam broke up with her.

However, she appears to be pretty conniving when Lisa rents the other half of the duplex so both of their exes are living side by side.

Sam and Dean spend many a night on their porch in the handmade rocking chairs, sipping beers.

"Do you think they hang out?" Dean muses.

"Of course they do," Sam answers, rolling his eyes. "And I'm sure they talk about us all the time, too."

"I hear that sarcasm, and I don't appreciate it," Dean says primly.

"I've got Eileen now, and you only dated Lisa for what? A year?"

"My longest stint in suburbia," Dean agrees, raising his beer in salute.

" _This_ is suburbia!" Sam laughs.

"Yeah, but not the unwedded domestic bliss kind, y'know? It's you, me, and Eileen just... being a family."

In a sudden tick of solemnity, Sam purses his lips, rocks in the chair a bit, and says, "thanks, Dean."

Dean side-eyes him. "For what?" he asks hesitantly, trying to skate a serious feelings talk this sober and early in the evening.

"For what you did," he says with false lightness. "That's... you're still doing everything for me. Putting me first."

Dean waves him off feeling his neck heat. "It's less for you, more for Eileen. You guys are _married_ , and shit. That's forever stuff. You deserve the bigger room. Plus, eh." He shrugs. "You've got a combined income now. You're paying more than half the bills."

Sam laughs, but it still sounds guilty. "It's _your_ house, Dean. In the end, it really is yours. You found it, and got the money together, and fixed it up, and everything."

Dean turns to face his brother. "Dude. It's not just _my_ house. Why do you think I bought it in the first place? It was for _us_. You and me." He gestures between them. "You helped with the down payment, too. I wanted you to have something nice for when you graduated. And now _we've_ got something nice. I know it's not the standard setup anymore, but it's not weird. Unless..." he side-eyes Sam, knowing this isn't the case, but wanting to poke, anyway. "You hate living with me now?"

"No!" Sam says emphatically, expectedly. "I just don't want you to feel like I'm stepping on your toes."

"You're not. And neither is your wife."

"That means a lot, Dean. Thanks."

Dean clears his throat. "Yeah, whatever," he says gruffly. Then changing the subject, asks, "how's Eileen doing, anyway? Is she feeling any better?"

"About that," Sam says lightly. "She's not really sick. She's uh..." he laughs shortly. "She's pregnant, man."

Dean blinks at a loss for words. A wide grin breaks out on his face, equal to Sam's sheepish smile. "Holy shit! That's... that's amazing, Sammy! Congrats! When did you find out?"

"Today," Sam says happily. "Eileen sorta suspected, but... confirmed today. Her doctor actually thinks it might be twins since her hormone levels are so high and she's been having such bad morning sickness."

"I mean, it sucks that it's a rough start," Dean allows, "but that's really awesome! Guess we'll be making up the guest room as a nursery, huh?"

Sam scratches the back of head. "Like, not right _now_. We've got nine months. There's plenty of time to work out the details."

"Nothing to work out," Dean brushes off. "The nursery will be in the guest room, and I'll keep the room downstairs so y'all can be closer. No problem."

Sam drains the rest of his beer. "You _really_ don't feel like we're taking over?"

"Hell, no," Dean assures him. "You could have a hundred kids in there and I'd be fine. I don't need much; you know that. As long as I've got my own room, I'm cool with whatever else. Baby proofing and all."

Sam shakes his head fondly. "I'm lucky you're my brother."

"Damn right you are," he agrees.

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

Charlie, Gilda, and Dorothy are the ones to jump on the idea of a baby shower the second Sam and Eileen share the news. Gilda is a hell of an event planner, having teamed up with her partners over founding the largest LARPing event in the entire region, so of course she wants to plan the biggest baby shower of the century. Sam tries to tone it down, but Eileen says that she definitely deserves a huge party after all the struggling she's been having just growing the babies.

Dean agrees. They've got a huge backyard, anyway. What else is it good for if not a party or two? Sam and Eileen had been married back there and it had been freaking lovely. Even Dean can admit that.

It's easy enough to invite people, at least. They all seem to have mutual friends, considering that yet another ex of Dean's - Benny, and his partner, Balthazar, who Dean only sort of likes, take up the rest of the cul-du-sac. Well, with the notable exception of the bank-owned eyesore on the curve across the street. They all take turns at least cutting the grass every now and then so it looks more run down and less haunted.

But the day of the baby shower not only brings a gust of fall air, but also contactor vans and a lot of commotion at the forgotten house.

Dean eyes it with interest. Maybe the bank's finally decided to fix it up for sale? He's got the means now that if a For Sale sign pops up, he'll have Sam jump on it immediately. Even with kids on the way, the mortgage is cheap. Sam and Eileen would have no trouble paying for it themselves. And Dean could stay put in the more bungalow-style house they already share now. He'd still be with the most important people in his life while letting his family have their own space however they wanted it to raise their kids. Or he could take the eyesore if Sam and Eileen decided that they preferred to stay in their current digs.

Either way, he knows he's not imposing, but occasionally, Dean feels the tug for a place that's his own. A place he could settle down in with his own partner. Maybe. One day. If he _did_ get that serious with someone, it would probably become too many cooks in the kitchen at his current home. Especially when the kids start to get older. Their one and a half bathrooms would be completely overwhelmed.

But that's a problem in a few months when that ramshackle house gets a makeover. He'll keep an eye on it, though. Every damn day.

Frankly, it looks more and more beautiful the further along it comes. A simple new roof uplifts the place immeasurably. The loose boards and leaning railings are removed and replaced. New windows installed, the one on the door and the front upper floor, replaced with geometric stained glass.

In fact, the second that an entire scaffolding is set up to build a second story balcony, Dean is ready to start salivating. He can't wait for that place to go on sale. He doesn't even care how much it costs; he wants it. He's gotta have it. Screw what Sam and Eileen want. They're settled. He checks his savings and then hacks Sam's accounts (only to make himself sound badass. Sam has the same password for everything, and told it to Dean more than once) so that he can see how much his little brother has squirreled away for a personal loan for the down payment, if necessary.

He waits patiently while they stain the porches, the back one _screened in_. He waits a little less patiently when they install river stones from the driveway up the front path to the door. He waits anxiously when they paint the whole thing a light slate blue with mossy green trim. He waits with baited breath when they replace the detached garage. He's on the front porch of his own home, leg jiggling as the home inspector comes through with a lady in a business suit too red to be anything but a Realtor.

He can't even sleep that night in preparation for the sale sign and listing. It's like Christmas Fucking Morning.

But the sale sign isn't up the next morning when Dean takes his coffee to the front porch to see how his dream home looks in the dissipating fog.

There's a moving truck parked in the drive next to a _Lincoln Continental._ Dean takes a breath. Takes a moment to be horribly offended at that eyesore parked in _his_ future spot.

His anger only grows to watch four men tripping back and forth and tracking mud up the formerly pristine porch with loads of ugly Ikea furniture. It's an insult. A fucking shame.

Dean had tried his best to keep the neighborhood safe. Safe for his family both present and future. And the only way to do that is to make sure that the people around you can be trusted. People you know more than by face and the name painted on the mailbox. Strangers who live too close always end up being trouble. Hell, whoever they are, they've already stolen Dean's goddamn house. What else will they take?

He startles when a voice behind him says, "oh, wow. Move in day? Wonder who it is."

Dean gestures angrily with his coffee cup. "This doesn't bother you?"

Sam shrugs, yawns, and sips his own coffee. "What? The nice house or how loud those guys are being so early in the morning?"

"We don't _know_ those people moving in," Dean points out.

"So what?" Sam counters. "This neighborhood was bound to have people we don't know moving in eventually. It's in a good area for development, it's cheap for now, and since we've all been here a while, it's starting to look like it's good investment. We should be glad about it. Maybe it'll be a family we can get along with."

" _Or_ they could be monsters who end up kidnapping your kids."

In his artfully constipated way, Sam says, "dude, I think you've watched so much anime that you're coming unglued."

Dean tosses the rest of his now-cold coffee into the grass. "Like hell," he mutters, traipsing inside.

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

A week after the moving trucks have left, and no one has laid eyes on the new neighbors, Sam takes matters into his own hands. He'd failed to "casually" run into them while taking Bones for his numerous walks. Hadn't bumped into them checking the mail. Hadn't even seen the car pull out of the driveway. If they didn't see the lights go on and off, it would seem like no one lived there at all.

Eileen cheerfully makes a pan of her famous mint and Kahlua brownies and passes them off to her husband to take to the neighbors with a smile like she isn't concerned that someone is going to break into her house and eat her babies in four months. Maybe slightly longer after they've plumped up.

Sam, of course, asks Dean to come along, though he steadfastly refuses because he doesn't particularly feel like being murdered at ten in the morning on a beautiful Saturday.

However, Sam comes back minus the brownies and plus a huge beaming grin. "He's really nice," he both signs and says to his family. "His name is Castiel and he works from home."

"It's just him?" Dean asks shrewdly.

"Yeah," Sam confirms. "Super smart, super nice. If you got your head out of your ass and introduced yourself to him, you'd probably get along."

"Don't make me the asshole here," Dean warns.

"You _are_ the asshole here," Sam insists.

"We should have him over for dinner," Eileen says. "Bachelors don't eat well."

"The hell you say," Dean protests, offended.

She has the audacity to laugh at him. "Just because you cook food doesn't mean it's _good_ for you."

"Why are you guys so cool with our neighborhood being overrun?"

"Because it's _not_ ," Sam scoffs. "Castiel is a decent human being. I spent an hour talking to him, and he didn't try to poison me once."

"That's great, honey!" Eileen enthuses with another laugh. "Since he didn't try to kill you, dinner it is."

Sam kisses the top of her head and starts tapping away on his cell phone. It beeps back quickly. "Saturday at seven."

"You exchanged _numbers_?" Dean demands.

Sam snorts. "That's what you do with your _friends_ , Dean. Now, you've got a few days to practice not being a dick. Get on it."

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

Dean does, in fact, try to get his head out of his ass. Anger is a funny thing, in that it sucks, but sometimes you want to keep at it, anyway. Dean does. He feels cheated, and he can't help it. That was supposed to be his _house_. If he'd had the money to do a full renovation himself, he would have done it. He's not exactly strapped for cash these days, but he definitely doesn't have the scratch that Castiel seems to in order to rebuild a house practically from the ground up.

Snooze and lose on all counts. Dean can't blame the guy, though he wants to. The Winchesters may have started the flow of progress here, and they've made it an attractive area. Cheap, safe, and nice in the future. A good investment for increasing home values. Dean just wishes that their hidden gem could have been hidden for a little while longer.

Of course, Dean starts to emphatically blame Sam as well because his brother had not, _at all_ prepared him for coming face to face with the mysterious Castiel Novak.

When the doorbell rings at exactly seven, Dean is closest, so he answers it with, if not a hostile expression, at least a blank one. But then he gets an eye full and his jaw drops. Metaphorically. He's pretty sure his mouth stays shut, but he _does_ blink pretty hard. And his subtly passive-aggressive greeting retreats back into his chest hard like a shot of bad whiskey.

"You must be Cas... Castiel?" he croaks like a dumbass.

But the ridiculously hot man in front of him grins, blue eyes sparkling in the porch lights. He holds out a hand and Dean notes his long fingers. "Yes. Castiel Novak. Nice to meet you...?" he trails off expectantly.

Dean takes the man's hand, hoping his traitorous palms aren't sweating. Not too much. Either way, it's a thrill. "Yeah, Dean Winchester."

"Hello, Dean," Castiel answers in his low baritone, charming the shit out of Dean's ears, which are far more traitorous than his hand as it's released. He holds up his other hand, and shows Dean his gift. "Sam told me your family aren't wine drinkers, so I hope this is a fine contribution?"

Dumbly, Dean blinks at the case. Beer. Expensive craft beer. "Oh. Uh. Yeah, yeah, that's great." His mouth is already watering. "Um."

A voice from the kitchen breaks him out of his own stupidity. "Where are you guys?" Sam yells.

Sheepishly, Dean sidesteps out of the way and holds the door open for their guest. Their hot... _hot_ guest. Who has a great ass that Dean tries only sort of hard to not notice. Belatedly, he moves to relieve Castiel of the beer. "Thank you," Castiel says softly, eyes drawn up to meet Dean's again.

There's something there. Definitely _something_. He's not sure what yet, but it's there. And it's goddamn thrilling. "Don't mention it." He gestures towards the kitchen. "This way."

Castiel moves ahead of him, and when they get to the kitchen, Sam is there with a huge, welcoming smile. "Hey, Cas! Good to see you again! Welcome to our home."

Castiel shakes his hand firmly. "Sam. You have a beautiful home. Much nicer than my empty house." He laughs at himself in a wonderfully self-deprecating way that Dean's teeth grind at thinking it's sexy.

"You'll get all those boxes unpacked some day!" Sam argues cheerfully, clapping Castiel on the shoulder and guiding him to the porch door at the back of the kitchen to the patio where Eileen is watching over the grill.

Dean watches them through the glass. Sam introduces Castiel to his wife, and Castiel makes a few halting gestures, clearly looking embarrassed. But Eileen waves at him in encouragement and corrects his ASL greeting and introduction. Sam says something that makes the three of them laugh, and then moves to work on the burgers while Eileen keeps showing Castiel how to finger spell his name while he earnestly follows along.

With a sigh, Dean opens the case of beer and pulls one out, popping the cap against the lip of the counter. He tries to hate the feeling uncurling in his chest, but he doesn't. He never did. It's the same feeling that brought him his family outside of Sam. How he felt when his brother first smiled at her. How it felt when Charlie hugged him for the first time like it was the best embrace in the world. How it felt when Benny had kissed him in the Impala back in school, and then admitted years later that they were always better off as friends. How it felt when they'd all moved into this neighborhood just to be closer together.

It's the same damn thing. Castiel is going to fit. Dean can tell. And it scares the shit out of him.

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

"Cas, you're a dick, did you know that?!" Dean yells from across the house. He has no idea where that guy has wandered off to. "You're a real piece of shit!"

A moment later, there are footsteps and then a head pokes into Dean's field of vision as Castiel bends down to see him where he's squished under the kitchen sink. "Why now?" he asks with a grin.

"Seriously?" Dean gripes. "It's come to my attention that you're making _me_ suffer for the fact you hired the shittiest contractors in the world. They half-assed _everything_! I didn't even think that was possible."

"I should have hired you," Castiel answers mildly, sinking down to sit cross legged next to Dean's knees. "Besides, it's not my fault you kept saying yes to helping me fix things like the sucker you are."

"Just hand me the fucking wrench," Dean groans. "You spend too much time around Sam. I can't resist his goddamn puppy eyes, either."

Chuckling, Castiel passes a wrench over and takes the screwdriver that Dean thrusts at him in return. "I'm feeding you," he offers in hopeful placation. "I'm feeding you a _lot_."

Dean fights his smile and turns his attention back to the garbage disposal from hell. "Asshole," he murmurs.

"I also have beer," Castiel wheedles. "It's cold and refreshing..."

"Of course it is," Dean scoffs. "Your fridge is the only thing that works!"

"The upstairs guest bathroom sink is leaking," Castiel admits.

" _Of-fucking-course it is_!" Dean complains loudly.

"I'm so sorry," Castiel says quickly, scooting closer. "You don't have to do it. I'll call a plumber. I honestly didn't become friends with you so that you could be my on-call handyman."

Dean doesn't answer. He just finishes his repair and pushes Castiel out of the way as he slides out and rolls to a sitting position. "Give it a whirl," he says.

With a final guilty look, Castiel stands and turns on the water. Hesitantly, he flips the switch on the wall. The disposal hums to life, rather than its previous alarming grinding and burning smell.

As irritated as he is sometimes with how many shoddy "improvements" Castiel had let happen in his beautiful home, Dean can't muster up any real ire when the man who suits the idyllic-looking home so well swings around to face him, face alight as though he's just been given a Christmas puppy. "It works!"

"Damn right it does," Dean grins back. "Okay." He closes his toolbox and stands. "What's wrong with the upstairs bathroom again?"

He turns to make his way to the stairs, but Castiel grabs his arm suddenly. "Dean."

Dean turns back, quizzical. "What's up?"

Castiel's hand trails hesitantly down until it touches Dean's hand.

He's so startled, that he doesn't even think to protest when Castiel takes the toolbox and sets it on the counter. He draws closer, looking like he's preparing for Dean to remind him about personal space. Again. It doesn't happen. They're way past that point. They got past that point three months ago.

"Dean, I'm sorry."

Yanked abruptly from the brief daydream of dragging Castiel even closer, Dean blinks. That's been happening a lot lately. "Uh. For?"

"For this," Castiel says, shrugging to indicate the house and squeezing Dean's hand tighter. “I think it's gotten out of hand. I know you felt sorry for me when I started lamenting about what was going wrong, but I never intended for you to be the one felt responsible for fixing my hiring mistakes. That's not what I wanted between us."

Dean frowns, heart sinking. Honestly, he offered his help the first, second, and tenth time because it seemed like the only way to get Castiel by himself for more than a minute. He can't exactly be jealous of the friends he's made, but he's allowed to have his own feelings. And his own feelings say he's got a stupid crush even while admitting to himself that he's taking advantage of the friendship that Castiel had boldly stated that he'd wanted after their first dinner. He can handle a useless crush, but he absolutely does not want to Castiel to admit that he'd prefer to hang out only in their shared social circles.

With a sickening bittersweet jolt, Dean reaches his moment of clarity. He'd do anything that Castiel asks. Anything to make him happy and smile like that at something as simple as a working disposal. It's not just a useless crush anymore. Shit. "I'm sorry," he says softly, even though he knows Castiel won't understand the full value of what he's apologizing for.

Castiel's expression falls, and it makes Dean's heart ache in a way that it never has before. "Do you remember last month when we were going to the movies?"

Confused, Dean says, "we never went to the movies together."

"Exactly!" Castiel smacks Dean's arm lightly for emphasis. "We never went because my garage door was stuck and you fixed it, and it took so long that we missed all of the reasonable show times."

Scratching thoughtfully at his chin, Dean says, "yeah, I guess that did happen, didn't it?"

"Yes," Castiel says severely. "And then I asked you to go bowling, but you repaired the doorbell instead."

Dean laughs. "Dude, you didn't answer the knocking because you couldn't hear it, and I had to _text_ you to open the door! That was necessary."

"Apple picking," Castiel says sourly.

"Was that when your toilet exploded?" Dean laughs.

"Dinner at that gourmet hamburger place."

Snapping his fingers, Dean says, "I remember _that_ one! Your closet shelves collapsed!"

Even more angrily, Castiel bites, "the trip to the botanical garden last week."

Rolling his eyes, Dean says, "I only agreed to go because you seemed so excited about it. I didn't want to look at flowers all day. Your porch railing was much more interesting."

Castiel jerks away and swings around in a circle. He suddenly shouts, "I _hate_ this stupid house!"

Dean stumbles back a step, shocked. "Wait, what? Dude, Cas, this house is _amazing_." Castiel makes an ugly noise, stomping away further, but Dean stops him. "Look, sure it needs some work, but you've learned your lesson about contractors. I know I complain, but I'm actually happy to help this house reach its potential. I'm happy to help _you_ have the..." he fades off a bit when Castiel's burning eyes meet his. He drops Castiel's hand and finishes softly, "I'm happy to help you have the home that you deserve."

Alarmingly, Castiel's face crumbles and his shoulders hunch. Is he about to _cry_? Dean can't handle that. If he has to handle that, he's positive he'll do something stupid, like kiss the tears away.

Castiel doesn't start crying, but his voice is pure, abject misery when he says, "Dean, I hate this house because it's thwarted my every effort to ask you on a date for _three months_."

The second shock of the afternoon, this time from Castiel, hits Dean so hard that he nearly falls over. Date? Ask? Castiel's been trying to... ask him out? On a date? What? "What?" Dean gasps. Is he dreaming? He's got to be dreaming. Castiel's garbage disposal is still broken, because Dean is back at his house, asleep. Dreaming about this.

Castiel's eyes flick down to the gleaming tiles on the floor. "I've been trying to ask you out on a date for months, but we've never gone because I'm an idiot, and my house is falling down."

Laid out plain as day, Dean still finds himself needing more clarity. "You wanna go on a date? With me?"

Castiel looks up again, pleading. "Yes. More, too. I... Dean, after that first night we spent getting to know each other, I felt drawn to you. Seeing how you are with your family, your friends... I found myself wanting some of that for myself. Even just a little bit." He's come closer while talking, but stops a respectful distance away. "If you're not interested in me that way, it's fine. I'll take any relationship with you that I can get because I value it. Anything at all is--"

Dean lurches forward and kisses him. Kisses Castiel like it's the very air he's breathing. Castiel doesn't react for a second. And _then_ he makes a small noise of surprise and pleasure, and grabs Dean closer. As close as they can get. It goes on and on. Dean starts to urge them towards the stairs. They stumble together, trodding on each other's feet while Castiel's frantic lips leave a trail over Dean's lips, cheeks, neck. They attempt to remove each other's clothing, but that's too much coordination for the time being.

When they hit the stairs, Dean misses the first one and goes down hard on his ass with a grunt. But the pain doesn't matter. He stares up at Castiel, taking in his wide eyes and wet lips. Both probably looking equally stunned.

"We've been on enough dates now, haven't we?" Dean asks hopefully, breathlessly.

Castiel's smile is deeply affectionate. "All over the house," he quips. He holds out his hand and Dean takes it. He helps him up, and then they're going up the stairs slowly, side by side, down the hall to Castiel's bedroom.

And despite their earlier fervor, Castiel and Dean stand in the room, facing one another, undressing slowly. They study each other and the skin revealed, never rushing.

When they're fully naked, both half-hard in front of each other, Dean takes his turn to hold his hand out. Castiel reaches for it immediately.

They fall into the warm sheets together, smiling, lips meeting over and over. Hands searching for the best places to tough. Unrushed and adoring. It takes a long time before their fingers even stray below the belt.

Castiel lets out a soft sigh of relief when Dean tentatively takes Castiel's dick in his calloused hand, stroking gently. And despite the fact that he'd been expecting it, Castiel's touch in return makes him jolt with searing pleasure.

It's perfect. They move together in unhurried devotion. They kiss again and again, sometimes deeply delving, sometimes light and gasping. They press together and stroke each other, and the bliss is so blinding, that Dean loses track of his own body, too focused on the trembling in Castiel's. He's not even sure who comes first, just that there's a sudden warm wetness between them, and they're both moaning. Then there's more moaning and whiteout ecstasy.

Then there's kiss after kiss. A box of tissues to clean up the mess. Limbs tangling together.

Eventually dozing afterglow as the sunset paints the room pink and gold from outside the window.

It's a dream. Better than a dream. Dean holds Castiel closer.

They say nothing, but simply let the world go on around them for a time. Nothing can intrude.

Until a small sound starts to niggle at the corner of Dean's senses. He tries to ignore it, instead painting his fingertips over Castiel's stomach. The sound stops. Then it starts again.

"Oh, my God," Dean whispers.

"Hmm?" Castiel hums, completely oblivious to everything after a good orgasm. It's adorable, but now is not the time to feel proud about his handjob skills.

"Cas... do you... seriously, do you have squirrels in your attic?"

Castiel groans and rolls closer to Dean, planting several kisses against his chest. "No," he mumbles.

"Yes, you do," Dean accuses. "That flashing on the roof isn't even right?"

Embarrassment evident in his muffled voice, Castiel admits, "I wasn't going to say anything."

"Then you shouldn't have slept with me, because you don't have to say anything now. I can _hear_ them. They're probably tearing up your insulation right this second!"

He moves to sit up, but Castiel's weight is firm and stubborn, face set hard. "Don't you dare," he orders. "This house has ruined all of our dates, but it _will not_ ruin our post-coital cuddling."

Dean starts. His face splits into a painfully large grin. He starts to laugh. "Fine. But don't worry, Cas. It may have won this battle, but I've put too much into this house for it to win the war. I promise."

Six months later when he's hauling the last of his moving boxes across the street to dump into his now shared home with Castiel, his promise is kept. The house is perfect. And now, it's their home.


End file.
